THIS LOVE

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Dream wouldn't blame someone for calling him dramatic. heaven, He's a twenty-two-year-old man listening to sappy love songs like he was thirteen again after he had his first kiss in the nickelodeon hot tub. So being called pathetic or something along the lines by Sapnap with a sizeable eyeroll to accompany it is nothing.

His body sinks into his mattress with fluffy comforters generating heat as Taylor Swift's gentle voice rings in his ears.

Earlier he put himself in a state where he did nothing but lay in bed looking up at his ceiling as sparks of yellow shone through from the sun which claimed its turning in for the night. He didn't notice when a thousand thoughts started to prick the entrance of his brain, carelessly inviting them in without knowing he would be regretting it later.

One thing lead to another and by the time he realized he was fucked, he was huddled in a ball, crying while a playlist on Spotify titled 'When You Miss Me' that George had dotingly made one day for the blond played through tracts of songs one by one.

George is no longer ashamed to admit it consists of multiple edited versions of Heatwaves.

It played quietly through Dreams Airpods, wrapping him up in a safe spot of aroura that he gripped tightly, scared it would slip from his fingertips.

The words, Dream. Focus on her words he reminds himself.

He closes his eyes, trying to move his thoughts from the quite alarming assumptions that yell at him to the gently spoked lyrics from Taylor.

His hand ran up the side of his cheek, cupping it imagining much smaller fingers wrapping him up lovingly. Oh how much he missed the beautiful boy that once laid his head next to him. The right side of the bed is empty but is indented with the shapes and curves of the boy who once claimed the exact spot.

Clear blue water

Dreams memory travels back to the first time he had taken George to see an American beach. He remembers the way George's eyes lit up and how he stared star-struck as the waves crashed down abruptly and then traveled slowly up to their bare feet, shoes, and socks in their hands, safely kept away from the salty liquid.

Dream watches in amusement at the shorter standing next to him, "whatcha think Georgie, How's your first real beach experience?" his tone jumpy and exaggerated to build up the energy flowing through the tangy must.

High tide came and brought you in

Dream waits for a reply but gets nothing. George only continues to stare out into the ocean with wide eyes and an o' mouth. Dream's eyes soften and he smiles at the picture in front of him. He watched as the setting sun creates a bright tan over the chocolate curls and milky skin, framing his form. George looked like a painted portrait right now. Beautiful.

His hand hesitantly travels over to the much smaller ones hovering beside him and interlocks their fingers carefully. While caressing his thumbs gently up and down George's knuckles, he can't help but looks over with nothing but eyes full of love. George turns his head to look up at the blonde. When he smiles back gently and returns the affection, it makes Dream's stomach turn as butterflies attack the walls.

And I could go on and on, on and on

"Hey, idiots!"

An interruption.

The two quickly tear away from each other's touch, faces flushed and trying to pull it off as if nothing had just happened. Even though they were openly dating, these precious encounters with each other held special places in each of their heart. It was still something they were getting used to; touching, hugging...looking.

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